First Skirmish
by foxtoast
Summary: The end of the first battle in Tsukasa and Tsukushi's ongoing war. TsukasaTsukushi


A/N: I had the drama-verse in mind when I wrote this but I started it before the finale so it's slightly off from the drama canon (just assume the relationship is almost but not totally endorsed yet ;). Either way, it's not plot-dependent on having seen any specific form of HYD because there's not really a plot :P. Honorifics have been kept for want of a natural-sounding English substitute. 

This is rated T for some non-graphic sexual content.   
- - I I - -

Tsukushi shifted nervously and bowed, low and a little awkward. 

"Please excuse the intrusion," she said in an even a tone as she could manage. When she righted herself she found Kaede smiling serenely back at her. A gloved hand waved her to a chair, and Tsukushi sat gingerly, her straight back and raised chin in defiance of the knot of nervous energy that coiled in her stomach. 

"Thank you for coming to see me, Makino-san." Kaede's voice was as smooth as the satin of her gloves; Tsukushi realized with a start that Kaede Doumyouji, imposing as she was, had the capacity to be charming and cordial and, indeed, quite pretty. Tsukushi's head bobbed in deference again as she focused on the pearl bracelet on Kaede's wrist, unable to quite lift her eyes and meet her gaze again. 

"Now, I'm sure you know by now how important my son is to me, and to the Doumyouji Group, and all of its employees and investors?" 

Tsukushi nodded again; _and to me,_ she thought, and courage steeled her enough to raise her head again. 

"And you know I would never let him ruin his life with a reckless decision in youth, or do anything to jeopardize our company's position." 

"Yes, ma'am." 

"And," Kaede continued, voice still smooth as satin, face still placid and coolly inviting, "That I would never let him become involved with a woman of whom I did not approve." 

Tsukushi sucked in a breath, the uncomfortable flop of her stomach left her short of words, but she held Kaede's gaze with steady resolve. 

When Tsukushi nodded again, Kaede's smile widened as stood and circled around to the front of the large mahogany desk. "I have a prior engagement now, but Nishida-san will show you to Tsukasa's quarters." 

Tsukushi blinked back at the face that smiled down at her. "Eh?" 

Kaede motioned toward the door and Nishida stepped forward. 

Tsukushi's head tilted in confusion, but she stood and hurriedly bowed again. "Thank you for seeing me, Doumyouji Kaede-san." 

And with one fluid movement, Kaede's fur stole slid over her shoulders and she glided out of the room, foot falls heavy on the polished granite floor until the room fell to silence. 

"This way, Miss." Nishida bowed. 

Dumbly, Tsukushi followed behind the secretary as he led her down a lavishly appointed hallway to a large wood door. Knocking once, he pushed it open and lead her inside. 

"Master Tsukasa, Tsukushi-san is here to see you." 

Tsukushi barely had time to protest before Nishida was gone as quickly as he had come, briskly pulling the door shut behind him. 

"Eh?! No-- I--" Tsukushi called after him as the door latched, the echo heavy and dull in the large room. 

"Makino?" 

Tsukushi jumped as his voice drew her attention back into the room. Instinctively she took a step back and collided with the door, the doorknob biting painfully into her spine. Tsukasa, lounging on the sofa, merely watched her, a cautious fox to her nervous rabbit. 

"Your mother asked me to come see her," she offered quickly, the inexplicable need to explain her presence rising in her mind to displace the urge to escape. 

The mention of his mother had the same effect it long had, and immediately he was on his feet, stalking toward Tsukushi. 

"What did the old hag say to you this time?!" 

"Nothing!" Tsukushi raised her hands in earnest. "Ah, well, she asked me if I knew that she wouldn't let you ruin your life, or do anything that might harm the Doumyouji Group." 

Tsukasa glowered suspiciously. "Is that all she said to you?" 

"Then -- Then she said she wouldn't let you date anyone she didn't approve of. ...And then she left and told Nishida to bring me here." 

A second of silence settled before Doumyouji's lips quirked into a lopsided smile and he laughed, an honest, open peal that under different circumstances would have been an invitation to smile back in earnest. The nervous confusion that still nagged at her, though, made Tsukushi apprehensive and uncertain about Tsukasa's mercurial moods. 

"Didn't I tell you, Makino? You really are the best." 

"What--?" 

Tsukasa, still exuberant, or proud, or whatever particular mix of emotions yielded his happiest form, leaned into the door, pinning her in place. 

"In eighteen years I've never seen anyone make my mother admit she was wrong. You really are amazing, Makino." 

"But I didn't--" Tsukushi protested only weakly, letting the objection die on her lips as he leaned even nearer, close enough that she felt his rapid breath skim her cheek and the warmth of a blush that rose to meet it. 

She had been near to him before, of course. And she had kissed him before, certainly -- or he had kissed her many times, his certainty often enough to sublimate her doubt and let her languish in the visceral pleasure of his touch. But it was only recently had she truly kissed him, needing to as much as he did, as much as he always had. It was still a foreign urge to need him in the fundamental way she needed any sustenance; it was still a foreign urge to admit so. 

And this is what she feared, and what she had long feared -- not the turbulent or feral nature of Tsukasa, but what his nature made her become. What he teased out of her, a hunger born of a place she didn't recognize and couldn't name, but that consumed her as it demanded to be satiated -- it was love, she assumed, but it wasn't. Tsukushi was acquainted with love, a point of reference from her mother, father, brother, the grandmother who did calligraphy and gardened and died when Tsukushi was still too young -- this was love as she knew it, simple and certain. 

What Tsukasa demanded of her was something unrecognizable in the same terms. Too complex and knitted among so many other threads of fear, elation, anger, and need that it was frightening and exhilarating in a way that would have seemed incomprehensible in the mundane, gray days before they met. But here she was, back pressed against the door, faces inches from Doumyouji's, beating back an emotion so forceful that it threatened to wring a needy moan from her throat before his lips even brushed hers. 

Tsukasa heard the sigh hitch in her throat; he kissed her then without hesitation, plying her lips with the tip of his tongue, rewarded with that soft, faint moan she could no longer contain. 

"Makino," he breathed against her cheek, faintly audible. "No -- Tsukushi. You won't be Makino much longer, but you'll be my Tsukushi forever." 

Tsukushi shuddered and touched her finger tips to his face as he stepped back to look at her, regarding her as if for the first time, awed at the realization that she really was his forever, without impediment. 

"Doumyouji," she began, but suddenly it sounded wrong. Her brow furrowed. "Doumyouji... Tsukasa," she amended. "..._Tsukasa_." 

His first name on her lips, unfettered by formality, was all the invitation he needed. With surprising speed, his left arm encircled her back as his right swept behind her knees, lifting her into his arms with a sharp squeal of surprise. Before she could protest with words, he had lain her down in the middle of his bed, her body sinking luxuriously into the heavy down bedspread, propped up by a small mountain of pillows. 

He slid onto the bed beside her and held the weight of his body over her, as close as he could without pressing against her. As he watched her, Tsukushi recognized the look in his eyes. It was distinctly Doumyouji, as reverent as it was hungry, and for the first time she welcomed rather than feared it because she no longer feared what it awoke in her. And it was easy to surrender to it willingly; her hands clutching at his shoulder, urging him down to kiss her as her legs slid shyly apart to accommodate his knee. 

Tsukasa, often so forward, kissed her with sudden reticence, stopping to breathe heavily into the warm, inviting space where her neck curved into her shoulder. 

"Tsukushi," he began, and she felt him smile against her skin. "Tsukushi," he breathed again, still reveling in the quiet, personal thrill of the intimacy, the privilege of her name his most valuable token of love. "You know what I want, but if -- if you still aren't ready, I'll stop." 

When he raised his head to look at her, Tsukushi saw the flush that spread across his face and neck, shadowing his eyes the deepest shade of brown. She bit her lip, the honesty of her thoughts not quite finding words, but knowing it had been long weeks since she last wanted to demur. So with one hand threaded behind his neck she pulled him gently towards her again kissed him with an urgency that conveyed nothing but how much she wanted it, too, the ache for him overflowing into the way she couldn't kiss him fast enough, her lips ravishing his jaw line and down his neck. 

Her free hand began working the buttons of his shirt with feverish speed, her finger tips needing more than anything to feel the heat of his body under her touch. He was real, this was real, she knew, but Tsukushi trusted touch and the brush of her hands over his chest was nearly electric, setting her whole body on edge and making every atom in her body vibrate awake with pleasure. 

And it hurt a little, making love to Doumyouji. The unfamiliar pain was like so much of the pain being with Doumyouji had caused -- a deep, needling ache that sunk to her core and made her never want to give it up, because the pleasure mingled so closely with the pain that they were inexorably linked, and she could never, never give up that small pleasure. 

But she knew this was the last time being with Doumyouji would ever hurt, and she sighed as she feathered kisses across his shoulder and relished the deep ache of being with him. And when he collapsed on her, spent and happy, she hugged him close her chest and stroked his curls, damp from exertion. Folded there against her, she could feel the quiet ebb of need as the muscles in his back relaxed and he settled comfortably against her. 

"Tsukasa?" she asked tentatively. 

A beat of silence passed; Tsukasa's languid breathing suggested he had drifted off to sleep. 

"Aah, well, you should know that this doesn't change anything. I don't rescind my declaration of war, but I suppose you can win the first battle -- I love you," she admitted to his sleeping form as she smiled to herself and nestled against him.


End file.
